Not depicted below: we went to Diamond Head, sans night-owl sister, and saw the sunrise. Our journey was more eventful than the climb, as my parents and I debated if we should go at all for the longest time (dad: but we could sleep!! BEFORE THE SUN RISES), then we had trouble finding our rental car, got lost in the garage (dad: sleep is meant to be) The sun was supposed to rise at 7:11AM that morning. We arrived at the base’s parking lot at 6:45AM. The very sympathetic lady at the parking gate told us that it would take at least 30 minutes to walk up the trail.
By then, the sky was already purple.
Uh, said my mother. Oh, hell no, said my father’s bad knee.
Plan B. We passed a lookout on the mountain, and decided to see the sunrise from there instead. When we parked, however, we saw that a neighboring mountain was blocking the sunrise. I moped, enough to convince everyone to drive back to the gate.
Me, in the front seat: So, let’s say we walked very fast. Could we make it to the top?
Lady: Uh.
Me, to my parents: She said yes.
By then, all the closest parking spots were full. It was 6:50 am. We started half-shuffling, half-sprinting up the trail. My water bottle clanged against my back, reminding me how unfit I was.
It was 7:10 am. And along with a hundred sweaty strangers, we all watched as the sun jumped from the water.
There were two ways to get to the top; one, a smooth sloped incline (my route), or an insane staircase. Later, I found out from my mother that my old man had climbed up the staircase with more gumption than I could have ever imagined.
I was very proud. And slightly worried about the green sheen in his face.
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